Implode
by PurpleCadet
Summary: *Update/completion pending if my brain cooperates.* Set after the events of 'War'. One touch is all it takes for them to unravel.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: **This story takes place after the events of 'War'.

**Disclaimer:**I have borrowed/paraphrased a couple of quotes from the season 2 finale. They do not belong to me, neither does anything else.

**Chapter 1**

_"Is this about you?"_

The word 'no' gets caught in her throat. She tries to force it out, knows it is all she needs to say for them to breeze past his question without letting it hang between them. But there's a truth to his words and the instinct to lie dies on her tongue.

The look he's giving her is one of pity and she wants to slap him because how dare he have the audacity to feel _bad _for her.

"Is this about you?" he repeats more forcefully. The phrase is redundant and she does not dignify it with an answer. Donna had been so secure and so sure of where this conversation was headed, had been thinking only of him, of his feelings. She suspected now that maybe that was the problem.

"This isn't about me, we're talking about Scottie." She hates herself for sounding so unconvincing. She'd held his gaze unwaveringly only moments ago and now her eyes are searching aimlessly for anything but his.

"Donna –"

"I know you think she made you into the kind of man that you never wanted to be, but she didn't love her fiancé, she loves you!"

And it kills her to say this, because she feels so transparent under Harvey's scrutinizing gaze and the soft tone he uses when he utters her name. But she won't falter because she barged into his office for a reason. Donna has always been sceptical of Scottie and wary of her motives. Now she can't help but feel a strong empathy for the woman trying so hard to break through to Harvey, to simply make him _see _her.

"And what about you?" he asks her abruptly. It throws her off and suddenly she's lost her voice for the second time.

"What are you really asking?" she finally says.

"Do you love me?"

She is beyond tired of hearing that question. And again, her answer is a reflexive "no", born out of years of denial and expert deflection. Donna doesn't let him linger on her answer either, "I _care_ about you, Harvey."

She foolishly hopes that this will be the end of their discussion, that Harvey won't look to find the deeper meaning in her words.

"Just trust what Scottie gave to Mike," she gently pleads.

Harvey doesn't say anything for a while, but she can see his mind churning, mulling everything over. "Give him the file."

"What do you think I did four hours ago?" Her voice is light but the smile she attempts doesn't quite reach her eyes. Donna shifts awkwardly, preparing to leave his office.

"I know you say you don't, but you once said you might." When he says it, he is facing the window with his back strategically to her. She wishes she could see the expression paired with the crack in his voice.

She wants to say something, but a large part of her, the more logical part of her, knows that if she does, she might not have the courage to come back the next morning or the one after.

* * *

(Monday Morning, Post War)

Donna had been expecting changes, she was no fool, but Pearson Hardman felt like an entirely different world. _Pearson Darby_, she mentally corrects.

The name change is merely one of many things that she finds herself getting used to on the first day back at the firm post-merger. She is confronted with an array of fresh, new faces and a slew of new titles and names.

She has them memorised by 10am.

Then there are old faces too. Donna almost balks when she sees Scottie saunter down the hall into her very own office.

_He asked to have her stay. _

Donna's heart almost breaks when Mike shuffles to her cubicle like a puppy with his tail between his legs. He sets a coffee on her desk, gives her a shaky smile and _boy _does she want to stay mad, offer scathing remarks and flip her hair like she couldn't care less about him. But his face is so earnest and apologetic that she actually doesn't know what to say.

In the end, any words are unnecessary because Harvey arrives, snatches the coffee from her desk, hurls it into the trash and scornfully tells Mike, "You aren't needed here. Stay away from my assistant."

He goes straight into his office and pointedly ignores her hard glare and Mike's sad eyes.

Donna does something unusual for her and reaches out to Mike, giving his trembling hand a soft, reassuring squeeze. His grim expression almost morphs into a look of gratitude. She supposes that's really all she can do for him.

He trudges back in the direction he came and Donna can't quell the deep throb of sympathy that loiters in her chest.

She follows Harvey into his office where he stops abruptly and swivels around to face her. Their noses are inches apart and for a moment it halts their breathing and startles them both. Predictably, he steps away first, his eyes narrowed and lips set into a thin line. "I suppose you're here to lecture me."

She huffs because sometimes he knows her as well as she knows him.

"You didn't have to be so cruel."

"Is that all you came in here to tell me?" he snaps.

"I don't need to say anything else."

"Are you sure you don't want interfere in my personal life again?"

The phrase cuts deep and she wonders if he says it intentionally to hurt her.

"I noticed Scottie isn't in London." It's the wrong thing to say but she says it anyway.

"Wow, five minutes and you're already doing it again."

"I recover fast."

She thinks she almost sees him smirk but it turns into a frown. "When it comes to Scottie, I'd prefer it if you keep your opinions to yourself from now on," he bitingly retorts.

"That's like asking me not to breathe," she says, but the joke falls flat because her heart really isn't in it.

* * *

Donna doesn't know the full story behind Mike's firing and she suspects that Harvey isn't going to tell her, at least not today. She avoids his office for the remainder of the day, delivering memos to his desk only when he is conveniently absent. He doesn't ask her for anything and she pretends not to notice when the light on the intercom button flickers off. She knows why he's livid, because dammit if she doesn't know that infuriating man better than anyone else. He may have shaken Darby's hand and accepted the merger graciously, but losing was never something that Harvey equated with himself. And he can throw vicious comments at her and he can alienate Mike, but deep down she understands that Harvey is more pissed off at himself than anybody else.

While the blame for Mike and Harvey's rift can't possibly rest squarely on Mike's shoulders, Donna can sure as hell hold him responsible for Rachel's hysterical sobs as she cries on her shoulder in the bathroom.

They meet in there by chance and Donna notices immediately that something is off. Rachel tries her best at a faux smile but Donna's practiced them enough to recognise one when she sees it. The moment her lip quivers, Rachel lets out a strangled sob.

"Rach, what happened?"

"Why didn't he tell me?" The question comes out a mangled mess but Donna deciphers enough to know exactly what she's referring to.

"When did he tell you?"

"Right after he was fired." Her face lights up in realisation, "Wait, you knew?" she says, her voice laced with hurt. Donna simply nods.

"How long?"

Donna winces, "His first day."

The tears flow faster and Rachel has to take a deep breath to compose herself.

"You could have told me," she eventually says.

"I care about you Rach, but it wasn't my secret to tell." This doesn't comfort her though.

"If it helps, he's pretty much wanted to tell you since the first time you kissed," she adds.

"We had sex," Rachel blurts.

Donna runs a reassuring hand down her arm, "I figured," she confesses.

* * *

After calming Rachel down, Donna returns to her desk, surprised when she finds Scottie leaning casually against it. She's relieved that the woman isn't actually in her cubicle because for one, Louis was have a field day, plus then she'd have to work twice as hard to feng-shui any evil out.

"Scottie, what can I do for you?" she says with an over-politeness.

Scottie picks up on it, offers her a false, cat-like grin. "Just dropping by to say hi."

"You've dropped, bye-bye then." Donna isn't quite sure why they've suddenly reverted back to their earlier treatment of one another, but right now she's having a bad enough day that her presence is quickly grating on her.

Scottie sobers then, and a look of apology briefly graces her features. "Actually can we talk for a moment, my office?"

The request is unexpected, but Donna complies, noting that Scottie had fittingly waited until Harvey had stepped out to meet a client.

They both take a seat in her office opposite one another, the situation oddly formal, as if it were some sort of business deal.

"I assume you're here for good then."

"It seems that way." Donna supposes that her answer was intended to be flippant but it comes out rather pensive. They're both aware that Scottie asked her in here to talk about Harvey, but Donna honestly can't bear anymore overwrought conversations today.

Ultimately she simply says, "Don't hurt him, okay," because she truly can't help herself.

Scottie seems oddly surprised by her words until she says, "You too."

And Donna doesn't know what to make of that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It is the first time he's actually ever contemplated calling in sick. Mike lies on his stomach, face buried deep into his pillow as he ignores the constant chirping of his alarm clock. For some time, Pearson Hardman was the only thing he ever wanted to get up for. And regardless of how he got it, he'd finally found some purpose.

Though he would scarcely admit it, Harvey Specter was the kind of lawyer that Mike aspired to be. Now he was simply another fledging in the associates' pool, editing briefs, filing subpoenas and answering to Louis.

Mike supposed that he should be grateful to still have a job, but he can't help feel anything except bitterness toward Jessica. He'd been so sure that he wanted to stay at Pearson Hardman (currently Darby), but now he wondered if it was even worth it if he wasn't working alongside Harvey.

For the past three weeks, Mike had steered clear of the fiftieth floor, avoiding any possible repeat of that first day.

He had been subjected to numerous barbs and snide comments from the other associates (namely Kyle of course), all of whom were harassing him more than usual since 'Harvey wasn't around to protect him anymore'. During such times, he'd kind of wished that Harold was still around. With his parents and grandmother gone, the people at the firm had, at one crucial point, been like family to Mike. Nowadays he found himself quietly desperate to regain that sense of belonging.

Harvey still wasn't speaking to him, and from what he'd heard from others in the office, he wasn't really speaking to anyone. Like Mike, Harvey's pride had taken a giant hit.

He had tried to speak to Rachel though, only to be rebuffed each time. He'd begun to realise that she was making it a point never to be alone in the same room with him.

She had been cruelly professional since they'd slept together and he'd been an apologetic mess. The single time she spoke to him about something other than work was two weeks ago, when she quietly murmured that his secret was safe with her. He guessed that would have to be enough for a while.

When Mike finally crawls out of bed and drags himself into the office, there's a small stack of files on his desk. He groans at the thought of obediently following Louis' orders when he notices a pink post-it note set atop the files.

The handwriting is cursive and impossibly neat; _if you're willing,_ _we could really use your help on this._

He's slightly furious, and tempted to hurl the files through an open window. But Mike's never really been able to say no to Donna and he suspects that she might be one of the few people left at the firm who genuinely cares about him.

So he plops down at his desk, puts his headphones in and begins diligently reviewing the files.

* * *

At around noon, Mike's eyes are starting to glaze over from the sea of numbers and letters and he almost believes that he hallucinates a flash of red hair.

"Hey," Donna says when she gently removes his headphones from his ears.

She has a soft smile on her face that Mike warmly returns.

"I think I may have cracked this case wide open," he says proudly, though the knowledge isn't half as rewarding as it once was. He goes on to explain that the settlement Harvey's client had been offered is complete bullshit because he's actually being cheated out of millions. He notes how Donna smiles at him with a kind of motherly affection that she rarely allows.

"Are you going to tell Harvey?" he asks hesitantly.

"Of course, you just saved both his ass and the client's."

Mike shakes his head, "Donna, he won't want to hear anything that came from me."

"Mike, take the credit," she insists.

"Will it get me my job back?" he asks with a sad sarcasm. Donna doesn't say anything, just cocks her head to the side in that patronisingly sympathetic way that people have been doing a lot lately.

"Didn't think so."

Donna gives him sombre smile and takes the files her hands her. She offers a brisk, but grateful thank you and disappears down the hall.

* * *

She bursts into Harvey's office and drops the files on his desk. He doesn't look up when he sardonically says, "Donna, come in."

"You might want to drop the cold shoulder act because Mike just saved our client a hell of a lot of money and your sorry ass."

Harvey pushes the files aside and continues to write, irking Donna. She's quickly nearing the end of her rope because when he isn't ignoring her, he's acting like a jackass. She's tolerated his adolescent mood swings for days, knowing when to challenge him right back and when to leave him alone.

She stands by his desk, unmoving with her hands clasped casually in front of her. "I'm sorry, should I repeat myself?"

"You know, you used to be better at taking a hint."

She indicates to the files, "When you read those, be sure to thank him." She rolls her eyes and exits his office.

* * *

He's being a dick and he knows it, knows he's been that way since the merger. Apparently his work over the last few weeks has been _fine._ Jessica's words, not his, because Harvey has never once used a term so banal to describe anything about himself. He does things in excess, to the extreme; his appearance, his apartment, his ability to command a court room or any other room for that matter. And he recognises that he's faltering. He's been handling twice the amount of cases since the merger and the workload is visibly weighing on him.

The stray thought that he might have taken Mike for granted occurs to him on more than one occasion. But absently thinking it is one thing, having the thought voiced by Donna is quite another.

The files she thrust into his face hours ago are untouched and he doesn't miss the moment her eyes wander over to his office to confirm as much. But he's pissed off and still not quite done being a dick so when she comes back to chew him out again he snaps.

"Get out."

She's momentarily startled by the way he barks the order at her, but continues toward his desk, stubborn as ever. "Have you looked at the files?"

"What part of 'get out' do you find unclear?"

"Is this temper tantrum of yours ever going to end?" she asks exasperatedly.

He stands up from his desk, his eyes meeting hers in a hard glare. "I don't think you understand what he did," he says.

She scoffs in his face, "Don't you think it would have been wise to hear his side of the story?"

"I think the fact that he _betrayed _me after everything I did for him says enough."

"I'm sure he had reason," she defends.

"Oh, you mean like you did? Maybe you guys should compare notes."

Donna's jaw slams shut and any retort she prepares melts away. Harvey waits and waits for her to say something, anything. He isn't prepared for the quiver of her lip and the soft splutter that escapes her mouth as she fights to hold back tears.

He rounds his desk and reaches out to touch her but she recoils from him like she's about to be burned. When she leaves his office, she slams the door so hard that the glass threatens to shatter. There's a finality to it that terrifies him.

* * *

**Authors Note: **For some reason my writing is all angsty but I promise things will get a little lighter :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **I just wanted to briefly say thank you for the follows and the kind reviews :) Now on with the story...

* * *

**Chapter 3**

In the quiet of his apartment, their scotch is forgotten, spilled somewhere on the tiles and staining the trail of clothes they leave in their wake.

For a while they've been in a kind of holding pattern, too guarded and reluctant to approach one another. For him, it feels like they've been dancing around this since she came back, and he's more than satisfied that they've finally stopped circling one another.

It's hurried and messy, but entirely them. He fists one hand in her hair and the other grips her thigh as he directs them clumsily to the bed.

She's drunk, and he's pretty sure he's halfway blind. The choice to drink was his, especially after the day he's had. The choice to barge into his apartment after eleven in a barely-there-dress had been all hers.

It's a relief when they're both finally naked and he's buried inside her.

Her kisses are soft, while his are bruising. Her touch lingers, while his is frantic. He wonders if it's the alcohol that is making them fumble against one another like they've never done this before.

Her legs wrap around his lower back, pulling him closer and he swears it feels like he's suffocating. He thrusts his hips hard against hers but she grabs his waist, slowing their rhythm. When she kisses him he realises with a stark clarity that she's trying to make love to him.

The expression she wears is one he's never seen on her, and then it's glaringly obvious why they are so out of sync. It's different now and he'd convinced himself that it wouldn't be, that he could fuck her or she could fuck him and it wouldn't change a thing.

He stills their movements and cradles her face. "What's wrong?" she immediately asks.

The look on her face is one of hope and he hates to crush her like this.

But this isn't love, not really.

He'd been angry when she'd showed up, his rage barely bubbling below the surface for weeks now. And it's not just the merger, it's everything else. He'd been drinking alone when she arrived and she'd been convenient. But a part of him thinks he may have loved her at some point and he can never tell her such a thing.

Instead he says, "I can't."

It's inadequate and clichéd but he can't bear to see the pain in her eyes, because he's already hurt enough people he cares about.

She dresses wordlessly because she understands. She doesn't take his shirt because this time there are no winners and no rewards.

* * *

Harvey Specter is the absolute last person Mike expects to see when he opens his front door. He is actually at a loss for words and even worse, has been completely stoned for hours.

His face is neutral and his voice is resigned. "Are you gonna let me in?"

"You actually want to come in?" he asks disbelievingly.

Harvey doesn't react to his question, simply brushes past him and collapses into a heavy pile on the couch. He tilts back his head and sniffs the room, "You're back to that huh?"

Mike doesn't miss the slight disappointment that clouds his voice.

"Why do you care?" he asks without malice.

Harvey picks up the nearest joint and puts it between his lips, recreating a very familiar, very amusing scene. "I don't."

Mike sits on the chair next to the couch and rolls another joint for himself.

"Okay I _know _this is from the coffee cart guy," Harvey says as he inspects his joint.

"I still want to know how you know that."

They smoke mostly in silence as Mike tries to find the right words to articulate any part of what he's feeling. He's partially annoyed that Harvey believes he can just show up at his doorstep without any explanation, as if nothing has changed between them. Except he can't feel entirely put out because a considerable part of him is simply glad for the fact that he did show up.

Smoking alone isn't nearly as fun.

Harvey continues to ponder with a joint between his lips. Mike takes the opportunity to fetch them two beers.

He hands one to Harvey, "For your cotton mouth."

Harvey smirks but thanks him anyway. Mike spends about two minutes toying with the label on his beer before he finally asks, "Harvey, why are you here?"

"Would you believe me if I said I had nowhere else to go?"

"Maybe," he says honestly, because he's been hearing things around the office.

"You did good work on that case," Harvey confesses. Mike watches as he takes a long drag of his joint, as if using it as a tool to prevent himself from saying anything further.

"Donna told you then?" he surmises.

Harvey tenses at the use of her name and Mike wonders what the hell _that _is about.

"I, uh, told her not to."

"You deserve credit."

Mike smiles fondly. "That's what she said."

"She's a smart woman," Harvey says to no one in particular. Mike is tempted to press him further but holds back as he sees Harvey stare miserably into nothing.

The moment isn't appropriate but Mike says it anyway, "I'm sorry. For what I did, that is."

It's far from a perfect apology but he seems to appreciate it all the same.

Harvey eventually stands and Mike is quietly awed and taken aback when the man shakes his hand. He recognises a peace offering when he sees one. Mike shakes his hand firmly then releases it. Harvey crosses the room and pauses at the front door.

"Try to be on time tomorrow."

* * *

He is the last person she wants to see, especially before she's had her second cup of coffee. But fate is cruel and clearly out to get her because they meet at the elevator at the exact same moment. His eyes avoid hers immediately and Donna has to bite her tongue to keep from calling him a coward. And a prick. And a whole lot of another names that she only reserves for special occasions.

For five floors they are the only two people in the elevator. By the tenth floor Harvey's mouth is open, poised and ready to speak when several people file in. His mouth slams shut. By the fifteenth floor she finally looks at him, only to be disappointed when he keeps his gaze fixed firmly on the doors in front of them. _Coward._

By the twenty-fifth floor the elevator is packed with people and he's shuffled closer to her. By the fortieth, he's standing so close that she can smell his cologne and can feel his breath on her shoulder.

It's only when the elevator dings and they reach the fiftieth floor that he dares to touch her hand. It's the lightest of caresses and if it were anybody else she wouldn't have noticed. But it's Harvey and she notices.

Donna steps out of the elevator first and Harvey trails right behind her. He doesn't say anything, but he matches her pace until they walk through the threshold of his office.

When she stops moving everything seems to sway a little because she feels sick and nauseous and furious all at once.

"I hate myself."

She scoffs, "Well we're on the same page then."

She folds her arms, grits her teeth and ignores his stare. Her shield is up but in reality she is defenceless against him when his eyes are so solemn and he can't find his words.

"I was an asshole."

"Keep going."

He takes a hesitant step towards her. "I've been pissed off and I took it out on you."

"Because you know I'll take it?" she barks. She almost regrets saying it when Harvey looks at her like she just kicked a puppy.

"Because I know you'll always come back. There's a difference," he stresses.

And she wonders idly if that's a good thing. "You can't do that Harvey. You can't take me for granted and just assume that I'll always be here."

"I wasn't trying to be cruel."

"Really? Cause you seem like a natural at it."

Harvey sighs, "Okay, I deserve that."

"You deserve a hell of a lot –"

"Donna," he cuts her off, "I'm trying to apologise."

"And I'm not going to make it easy for you," she says, smirking when she sees the tiniest quirk of Harvey's lip. It's the closest thing to a smile she's witnessed in weeks. He's closer to her now and she must have missed the moment where he bridged the gap between them.

"Would it help if I let you slap me?"

"It's no fun if you _let _me," she informs him, as if he should already know.

His face turns serious again. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

The way he says it makes her think that he's not just apologising for yesterday. It startles her when Harvey lightly threads a hand through her hair because he's only ever done it once and everything that followed was nothing short of disastrous.

"Apology accepted," she chokes out, removing his hand from her hair. But he grips her fingers tightly in a gesture so intimate for the two of them.

Then it's over so fast that Donna thinks she may have imagined it. He sits at his desk and she goes to hers and they start the day, ready to slip back into the well-worn roles of Harvey and Donna; boss and assistant.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **I apologise for not updating sooner but assignments got in the way. Enjoy!

**Chapter 4**

The rush of excitement he feels is almost on par with the euphoria he experienced on his very first day. Mike pedals his bike faster than his legs would normally allow, his body running on a rush of endorphins. It's wet and raining outside and he's getting thrashed around on the road but he doesn't care.

When he reaches the fiftieth floor of Pearson Darby with his hair wet and his suit damp, he wears a stupid grin on his face and practically skips to Donna's cubicle.

"You're late," she says.

Mike panics, checking his watch. "No I'm not."

"I know. I've just missed saying that."

Mike nearly beams at Donna and drops a chaste kiss on her cheek. The woman actually _blushes _and Mike can't help but swell with pride. Donna schools her expression, stands and straightens Mike's tie. He appreciates the fuss.

She smiles. "Good to have you back."

"Good to be back." He's still sporting the same goofy grin from earlier.

* * *

From his desk Harvey has an unobstructed view of his assistant and newly-reinstated associate. He observes them carefully, or more accurately, he observes _her_.

Donna's laughing and joking and playfully teasing Mike, and it twists something inside of him that he can't fully describe. She hasn't been this light for a while now and Harvey is smart enough to know that he's mostly to blame for that.

He sees her reach for Mike's horrendously skinny tie and straighten it, not dissimilar to how she does for him on occasion. It was something she used to do a lot in the early years of their working relationship, usually before a trial. They'd set the can opener down and she'd flatten his hair, fix his tie and jokingly wish him good luck. Even back then, she had known he wouldn't need it.

She's smiling brightly up at Mike and Harvey can't supress the rush of envy that springs in his chest. Donna hasn't looked at him like that in weeks. Maybe months.

He can't watch this scene anymore so he retreats from his desk and strides to the door.

"If you two are done flirting…" he deadpans.

Mike looks at him slightly horrified while Donna emits a low chuckle.

"Didn't know you had a taste for older women," Harvey teases as both he and Mike take a seat in his office.

"Just all fiery redheads who are out of my league."

Harvey smirks, strangely satisfied with his answer. Mike bites his lip, as if debating whether or not to speak, but Harvey interjects first, briefing him on their latest case.

"I'm not sure what Louis had you doing for the past month, but don't kid yourself that this is going to be smooth sailing."

They're both aware that Harvey isn't referring to the case. Mike clears his throat, "Working for Louis isn't exactly a vacation."

"That I can empathise with, but just know that I'm not going to put up with any of your shit," he says, not unkindly.

Mike offers him a curt, oddly professional nod. "Am I on some kind of probation?"

"Of sorts."

"I won't this screw up again," he says.

Harvey can hear the truth to his words and feels compelled to believe him. "Good, don't. And for god's sake change your suit," he adds for good measure.

Mike gives him a look of mock-offense and it's pleasantly familiar.

* * *

When Rachel goes to meet Donna at her desk for lunch she collides head first into Mike.

It's jarring for them both, made even worse by the hands that Mike uses on Rachel's waist to steady her, coupled with the hands she uses to grasp his shoulders. They haven't been this close to one another since they slept together and Rachel has been doing everything in her power to avoid a confrontation like this one.

Moments pass and neither say a word, because Rachel thinks for a second that he might just kiss her in the hallway in front of everybody they work with.

But his hands fall limp from her waist and she removes hers from his shoulders.

He mumbles an apology and she tries to look annoyed but she's too thrown by his proximity to be even remotely mad. Rachel tears her eyes away from Mike and they awkwardly sidestep one another.

Donna is smirking at her with both eyebrows raised. "Well that was painful to watch."

"What is he even doing up here?" Rachel asks in a hushed voice.

"Harvey brought him back."

"Seriously?"

Donna scoffs. "I'm surprised it took this long. I think I'm losing my touch."

"I'm surprised they lasted this long apart," Rachel jokes.

"Jeez Rach you make it seem like they're co-dependent."

Rachel laughs, "No _you and Harvey_ are co-dependent."

She means it flippantly but a look of hurt flashes briefly across Donna's eyes.

"Donna, no, I was kidding."

Donna waves her hand dismissively but Rachel can see plainly that the comment has impact. She quickly steers the conversation, "So how are you anyway? After yesterday?"

Donna gives her an unreadable expression. "What do you mean?"

Rachel shoots her friend a knowing look. "Donna I've seen you cry a total of two times, both instances being a direct result of the actions of a certain senior partner…"

"Hey, I'd just been fired," she defends.

"And yesterday?"

"Was nothing," she says with finality.

"Did he at least apologise?"

Donna huffs, "This morning."

Rachel seems satisfied by this answer. "I hope there was grovelling involved."

"Oh I'm expecting a _very _large bonus this year."

They're both silent for a moment and Rachel can't help but notice the way Donna looks at her pensively. "You know, you could talk to him," Donna prods.

"You're not really taking his side are you?"

Donna shrugs non-committedly. "I can't help but feel for the guy."

Rachel leans over Donna's desk, her voice breaking and barely audible when she says, "You mean the _guy_ who has everything I've ever wanted and never even earned it?"

Donna glares at her, "No, the _guy _who has no family outside the walls of this firm and loves his job more than anything."

Rachel is taken aback by the edge to Donna's voice. "And FYI, he earns it every day."

And to that, Rachel does not know what to say.

* * *

"That was a little harsh."

Donna, about to leave a file on Harvey's desk halts her movements. She holds out a hand to him, "Hi, I'm kettle, you must be pot."

Harvey bats her hand away. "I'm just saying."

"Well don't _just say_. How did you even hear what I said?"

Harvey gives her a look that speaks volumes. "What? You think I don't listen to your private conversations? That line goes both ways."

Donna mock-gasps, "This really doesn't seem right."

"I'd say it seems fair."

"How much did you hear?"

"Mostly just the end. Are you going to keep deflecting?"

"For as long as you let me."

Harvey leans back in his chair and studies her. Donna's smile is tight, it's the same one she's been giving him the past few weeks and he knows it well. Her hands are clasped in front of her, but he can detect the slight tremor to them that she's currently working so hard to hide. "Why are you doing this?"

She looks him directly in the eye but doesn't offer an answer. "Why do you keep defending him?" Harvey continues.

Donna sighs, shaking her head. "Are you really this clueless?"

"I hate it when you answer a question with another one."

Donna resigns herself to the edge of Harvey's desk and makes the conscious effort to avert her eyes. "The way Mike's been feeling, about what he did…well multiply that by a thousand and then you'll understand how I felt after the memo."

She tries to say it matter-of-factly but the shake of her voice belies the confidence she usually portrays. Harvey is brought back to last night and the impact of his cruel words hits him full force and he feels ashamed and utterly stupid that he couldn't figure it out sooner.

"Donna, it's not even close to the same thing."

"What I did was worse. Mike's hands were tied."

"And yours weren't?" Harvey asks incredulously. "I thought we put this behind us."

"How would I know? It's not as if we ever talk about these things," she says sadly, and he is absently reminded of her words months ago; _you keep things from me all the time._

Because she is guilty of it too. She puts up a wall or draws a line and sometimes her poker face is better than his. Except he thinks that this isn't about the memo and it's not even really about Mike.

He doesn't let her in.

These past few weeks have reinforced that. But she's infiltrated almost every aspect his life and he had meant it when he said he needed her.

She still doesn't get that that's why he can't let her in completely.

"I should go apologise to Rachel," she sighs. Their habits of avoidance and deflection come all too easy for the both of them and Harvey wonders if they'll ever finish a conversation all the way through.

His own body betrays him when he places a firm hand on the soft skin of her thigh. There's a boundary being crossed and he can see it by the curious look on her face.

He's not entirely sure why he does it, or why he's had the need all day to feel any part of her under his hands. Or maybe he does understand why, maybe because words keep failing them and he doesn't know how else to communicate. He tries to blame his traitorous hands but perhaps his brain is just finally catching up.

Donna's brow is furrowed, but she wears a small, amused grin. He thinks about running his hand further along her thigh, in fact his brain is _screaming_ at him to do it, but he can't. Not here in the middle of the day in his office, mere hours after she was furious with him.

His hand remains sprawled on her thigh for a lot longer than can be deemed appropriate. She doesn't yell at him or break his hand in half, but she grins at him like she used to and it breathes a quiet kind of promise.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** This chapter is probably a little shorter but I promise the next will be longer.

**Chapter 5**

From then on, it's a game they play. He'll reach for her, glide his fingers along her wrist, or hip, or the small of her back, and she pretends not notice.

He isn't exactly subtle about it either, because each time he does it, he fixes her with a smug, proud smile as if taunting her; _look what I'm getting away with._

It's new and it thrills her more than Harvey realises. She isn't sure what has sparked his sudden change around her. After their conversation about Scottie (and her) in his office, coupled with the weeks that followed, Donna had figured they would never speak of it again. It had taken years before Harvey had even mentioned the elusive _other time_ and she had been convinced that the loaded conversation they'd shared pre-merger would be swept just as easily under the proverbial rug he seems to like so much.

Though he hasn't alluded to it in so many words, his increasingly frequent touches inform her that at the very least, he thinks about it, about _them,_ not just in the abstract sense_._

It's not a monumental revelation and between anybody else, these sporadic touches would hold little significance. But their relationship has never warranted such contact so she can recognise that things are shifting and can finally confess aloud that she's wanted them to for a while.

Then after almost two weeks it comes to an abrupt end. A particular prick of a client jumps ship because he is _"unhappy with the direction of the firm". _The client had been with Pearson Hardman for close to six years after having been brought in by Daniel Hardman. It's all horribly transparent and it pisses Jessica right off who in turn pisses Harvey right off after she all but accuses him of failing to do his job.

Though Harvey doesn't blame himself, Donna notices immediately that the way Jessica chews him out for not retaining the client puts him back on edge. Donna tries to remain aloof when he closes off again, berating herself for not being more prepared for his reaction. After all, both Donna and Harvey are masters of the one step forward, three steps back manoeuvre.

It's 9pm on Friday and the client isn't coming back, Jessica is still bitter about it and Harvey now refuses to spend another minute in the office until Monday morning.

Donna sees his office light turn off before her own. Mike is long gone, having been sent home hours ago. Harvey had ceased any actual work at seven and had been holed up in his office for the past two hours sipping his scotch and deliberately ignoring her.

When he emerges from behind the glass walls of his office, Harvey's eyes are tired and exasperated. Donna is silent, switches off her desk lamp and packs up her things.

They walk companionably to the elevator and Donna doesn't miss the way Harvey's eyes trace the newly formed Pearson Darby sign on the wall. When they step into the elevator, Harvey doesn't even wait for the doors to close before her backs her up against the wall.

Their lips meet in a furious kiss that's more than a little bruising. Harvey fists his hands none too gently in her hair and Donna pulls his lip between her teeth, biting down hard. This spurs him on further and Harvey presses closer to her, sliding a leg between the apex of her thighs, grinding his obvious erection against her and pushing his chest into hers. Her hands slide up and tightens in his hair and Harvey's hands grasp her hips so firmly that's she's positive he's going to leave finger marks.

Donna's almost sure he is going to fuck her right up against the wall of the Pearson Darby elevator when he tears his lips from hers.

"Come home with me."

She shakes her head at his command, momentarily enjoying the look of disappointment on his face. "Come home with _me_," she tells him.

Harvey grins languidly at her and when the elevator doors re-open he tangles his fingers with hers and leads her out of the building.

* * *

He can't help but groan at the total cliché of it, but he's actually more grateful for the rain than anything. The short distance between Pearson Darby and Ray's car was a short one, as was the distance between the sidewalk and Donna's apartment building, but it's enough to leave their hair dripping and their clothes soaked through.

On the car ride over, Ray had raised his eyebrows but wisely said nothing when Harvey followed Donna to her door and gave him the night off.

Harvey trails after her, hurrying up the stairs because if they get in another elevator he won't be able to control himself. Donna unlocks her apartment with a shaky hand and he smiles at her because he's strangely nervous as well.

The build-up between them, and he's not talking about the past few weeks or months, but almost a decade of idle musings, loaded words and heated exchanges, adds a whole different kind of pressure to the situation. But he wants this, has wanted it for longer than he's ready to admit.

When they get inside Harvey's eyes roam around the room for the couch or basically any flat surface but then he looks back at Donna, with her hair a damp, tangled mess and her rain-covered skin and he wants to do this properly.

This time when he kisses her it isn't hurried or frantic. Their lips are cold from the rain but her tongue is warm and he savours the feel of it sliding lazily against his. His arms circle the backs of her thighs and he hoists her up, her legs instantly wrapping around his waist. They fumble their way to the bedroom, bumping into the couch and the coffee table and more than a few walls. They laugh through their kisses and fall unceremoniously to the floor, landing with a thud at the foot of the bed.

"Are you okay?" Harvey laughs.

"I'm going to have giant bruise on my ass tomorrow."

"Trust me, I'm not letting you out of here without more than a few marks."

His teeth scrape her neck and trail down to her collar bone. Harvey nips gently at the swell of her breasts, satisfied with the way it makes her shiver against him. Donna makes quick work of relieving him of his jacket and tie.

She strips off his shirt and flips them over before Harvey even has time to hike up her dress and really, he shouldn't be surprised. She's grinning down at him and laughing because he can't wipe the look of astonishment off his face. She's smug and gratified and he knows she learned that expression from him.

Harvey sits up, yanking at the wet, clinging fabric of Donna's dress and lifting it over her head. Then he's pushing her back down and covering her body with his. Harvey traces patterns on her stomach and learns for the first time that Donna Paulsen is ticklish. The information pleases him to no end and he plans to store it away for future use.

Her giggling continues uninterrupted as Harvey carries on his torture. One hand is kneading her breast lightly with the other is tracing idle circles around her inner thigh. She's raking her teeth across his pulse point and he swells with pride at the thought of her marking him with her mouth.

When they are finally stripped of their remaining clothes, everything is suddenly not so funny anymore. Her body is trapped under his, they're both entirely naked and it plainly reiterates the fact that this is _Donna_, and there's something terrifyingly wonderful about that.

Their bodies mould together so seamlessly that Harvey wonders not for the first time why the hell they haven't done this before.

* * *

They never do make it to the bed but Harvey finds himself content to fall asleep on Donna's bedroom floor with her wrapped around him, breathing lightly across his chest.


	6. Chapter 6

**I finally updated, sorry about the wait guys!**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Harvey wakes with a kink in his neck and donning more than a few scratches on his back. Half of his face is smothered by a pillow that smells distinctly like Donna. He allows himself to sink deeper into the bed, stretching out fully. When his foot comes into contact with nothing but a rumpled sheet his snap eyes open.

He specifically remembers falling asleep with her. They had woken up hours ago after making the joint decision that, _no_, sleeping naked on her carpet would not be the best course of action.

Donna had positioned herself at the far end of her bed, stubbornly refusing to face him. Harvey had retaliated by spooning right up against her back, holding Donna's hip to his, effectively trapping her. He had fallen asleep with a proud smile when she nestled further against him.

Harvey's rubs a hand against his tired eyes and groggily climbs out of bed. He's about to stumble out of the bedroom when he belatedly remembers that he is stark naked. His clothes are strewn about somewhere down the hallway that leads to Donna's bedroom. Harvey locates his briefs at the foot of the bed and slips them on.

He cracks open the door and the smell of coffee fills his nostrils. He's still mostly asleep as he walks into the kitchen and finds Donna leaning against the counter, cradling a cup of coffee in her hands. Harvey smiles at her with half-lidded eyes as she wordlessly hands him a cup. Her face is fresh and free of makeup, her hair tumbling messily around her shoulders. She's barefoot, clad only in the pale blue shirt he wore the day before.

"Nice shirt."

"Thanks, I picked it out."

He takes a sip of coffee, smirking behind his mug because he knows she did. Harvey rests against the counter opposite Donna, mimicking her stance. He's quite literally exposed, standing in her kitchen in nothing but his underwear. He should feel ridiculous invading her space like this, but she already occupies so much of his that it seems almost natural for him to finally do the same.

"I think you should leave," she says out of nowhere.

"What?"

Donna sets her coffee on the bench behind her. "This is weird."

He disagrees. "How is this weird?"

"You're Harvey…"

He looks at her, confused. "And you're Donna?"

"You are naked in my kitchen. It's weird."

Harvey laughs. "I was also naked in your bed," he points out.

Donna gives a dramatic roll of her eyes. "You're not helping."

Harvey sets his mug aside, takes a strategic step closer. "Would it make things weirder if I kissed you again?"

Donna bites her lip, her hips jut out slightly. "Yes," she says.

"Fair enough." Harvey takes a long sip of his coffee. Donna does the same. He watches as she brushes past him and disappears behind the door of her bedroom. He's disappointed when she emerges moments later in jeans and a sweater. She holds his shirt out, and he's not obtuse, he can take a hint. Harvey shrugs it on, keeping his eyes trained on Donna as he buttons it. She's biting her lip again and Harvey wonders if she knows how damn erotic he finds it.

"Pants?"

"You're a grown man Harvey, you can't dress yourself?"

"Sure I can, it's the undressing that I could use your help with."

He leers unabashedly at her and Donna fights the instinctive urge to smirk at him.

Harvey manages to locate his pants, wedged under the couch of all places. His suit jacket is draped neatly over a chair because apparently even a semi-naked Donna couldn't distract him from properly hanging it up. The second he slips the jacket on, she's already ushering him out the door.

"Tie?"

"One sec." Donna retreats back into her bedroom and after a moment or two, hurries back with his tie in hand. She's about to hand it over but instead reaches up and loops it around his neck, tucking it under his collar, knotting it with expert precision. He grins slyly at her when her hands linger on his chest just a little longer than necessary.

"I'll see you Monday?" he says, even though he's almost positive what her answer will be.

"Monday," she confirms.

* * *

When Monday morning arrives, Harvey is abnormally on time. He arrives at exactly ten minutes to eight and is greeted by Mike outside of the building. The kid jumps off his bike and runs over to him eagerly.

"You're here," he says, the phrase sounding like a question.

"It's Monday."

"And not even eight yet. What gives?"

Harvey stumbles, only for a second. "Early meeting with a client."

Mike gives him a disbelieving look, Harvey chooses to ignore it. They enter the building with Harvey striding to the elevator and Mike lagging behind. He manages to squeeze in just as the elevator doors snap shut.

"You're going to be so proud of me."

Harvey sneaks a sideways glance at his associate. "Somehow I doubt that."

Mike slaps a hand to his chest, "Harvey, you wound me."

It's then that Harvey notices a dark ring around Mike's eye. He gestures to the offending bruise, "Please don't tell me you're sleeping with married women again." Mike appears almost shocked by the accusation.

"Never again," he says truthfully.

They reach the fiftieth floor and this time when they step out, Mike matches Harvey pace for pace.

"That client from the other day…"

"I'm going to need you to be more specific Mike."

"Mr Pressler."

"You mean asshole Pete?"

"I think he just prefers Pete."

"What about him?" Harvey asks impatiently.

Mike puts a hand on his shoulder, giving Harvey no choice but to stop his hurried stride.

"That's the point I'm labouring to make." He pauses for dramatic effect, "I've managed to convince him to give us another shot."

Harvey shrugs Mike's hand off his shoulder. "It's not us who need to be given 'another shot'. We don't need business from a guy who jumps ship just because there happens to be a new name on our door."

"But we can't afford to lose a client this big," Mike argues.

"Fine then," Harvey relents. "Tell me exactly what you said to make Pete Pressler come back."

"This shiner right here," Mike points to his very obvious black eye, "Would have ended up on his face if it weren't for my interference."

Harvey almost does a double take. "You're telling me you took a punch for that asshole?"

"We happened to run into each other at that bar a few blocks down. I stopped him from getting his sleazy, drunken ass kicked." Mike informs him, practically beaming. "Apparently he was _very _grateful, and I was _very _charming – even in pain."

"What the hell were you even doing in the same bar?"

"I can't hang out at nice places?" Mike asks, only mildly offended. Harvey gives him a knowing look.

"Rachel goes there," he mutters, embarrassed.

"That is sad."

Mike scoffs, "Sadder than you stalking Donna for a week after the mock-trial?"

"I did not _stalk_."

"No, you _begged_," Mike snickers.

At the mention of Donna, Harvey quickly remembers why he actually came on time in the first place. He had planned on cornering her, possibly locking her in his office for a while, he'd thought gleefully. His strategy wasn't exactly well orchestrated but Harvey believed he could at least count on some privacy before Mike arrived. Of course the kid had to go and screw that up by _not _arriving late.

_Of all the times to be punctual._

The two of them reach Donna's desk and Mike pulls out a coffee from behind his back, leaving Harvey to speculate where the hell he got it from.

"Kiss ass," he mutters under his breath. It's loud enough for Mike to hear, who shoots Harvey a glare.

Donna happily takes the coffee from Mike and begins rattling off a long list of messages. Harvey isn't paying even the slightest bit of attention because all he can manage to do is watch the way her mouth moves, remembering how talented it was at doing other things – things he _really _shouldn't be thinking about at work.

She's wearing that form-fitting dark grey dress that he secretly kind of loves, and he's all of a sudden having trouble thinking about anything else but what's hidden underneath it.

It takes a moment before Harvey becomes conscious of the fact that Donna is no longer speaking, but staring at him expectantly and trying to hand him a number of files. A sly glance at Mike informs Harvey that his expression matches Donna's.

He clears his throat and collects the proffered files. His thumb intentionally grazes hers, though she shows no sign of acknowledgement as she returns to her desk.

* * *

By noon Harvey had finally managed to get Mike out of his office after giving him a congratulatory pat on the back. Mike became skittish, still uneasy about any kind of willingly offered praise and had awkwardly fled the room.

Donna enters his office not long after, balancing a stack of contracts in one hand and two take away coffees in the other. Harvey moves to help her but she places the contracts on his desk, fans them out, hands him his coffee then takes a long sip of hers.

He hides a small smile behind the lid of his cup.

"Close the door," he tells her.

She raises an eyebrow but complies. "Been trying to get me alone?"

"All morning."

Donna takes a deep breath, sets her coffee on the edge of Harvey's desk.

"Do you want to say it or shall I?"

"You might not want to hear what I have to say."

"I can handle it," she says, standing tall, her shoulders squared.

"We shouldn't have slept together." He pauses, watching the brief moment her face falls before she covers it with the purse of her lips. "Because now I can't concentrate on anything else."

She's momentarily stunned and has to bite back a grin that threatens to appear.

"You are damned distracting, you know that?"

"I have been told," she says smugly.

He means it when he tells her, "It wasn't a mistake Donna, and it wasn't just some random impulse either."

It's probably the closest he's ever gotten to freely expressing any kind of emotion and she seems to recognise this.

Donna inches closer to his desk. "I know that. I just wasn't sure if you did."

"Well you kicked me out before I even had the chance to say otherwise."

She grimaces, near guilty. "I didn't want to give you the chance to regret it," she admits.

This time he feels guilty, because Harvey's well aware that Donna knows precisely what he is like, has ample evidence from the last time they crossed this imaginary, yet very real line. He's all too familiar with the memory of _the other time_, mindful of the fact that he had hurt her and very nearly ruined them.

Only this time is different, at least he thinks so. He wasn't looking for some source of comfort and it wasn't something that escalated in the heat of the moment. He certainly can't pretend to ignore it again – doesn't want to, is done trying.

"I would have stayed, if you'd let me."

"And we would have what? Spent the weekend together?"

He muses over the image of being tangled in her sheets, wrapped up in her until the minute they have to leave for work.

"Would that have been such a bad thing?"

"I – no, I guess not," she concedes.

He'll take that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** So I've recently discovered Mad Men and have been glued to the TV for days. I blame this new addiction for not having updated sooner. Also, thanks for the reviews :)

* * *

Chapter 7

"We're going to be late," Donna reluctantly murmurs because the last thing on her mind is files and memos and unread case files. Harvey's chin rests against her stomach. She's wearing an old Harvard sweatshirt of his. It's pushed up, covering only her breasts, leaving her midriff exposed. Harvey's smile is wide and his eyes are dancing as he traces each of her freckles with his tongue. He does this frequently, she notes.

"I'm sure your boss will understand if you're late," he says, all charm and arrogance. Though she can hardly be annoyed when he looks so gleeful, nipping at her skin, marking her. He places a wet kiss above her belly button and rolls over, laying his head flat on her stomach. Her fingers thread through his hair of their own accord, musing it playfully. He bats her hand away, smirking.

"We have to go in sometime," she points out.

Harvey stretches out languidly, runs his fingers lightly up her side. She wonders if he knows that he has a habit of tracing patterns on her skin.

"I don't see why. If I'm not there, you don't need to be."

She begrudgingly admits that he isn't entirely wrong and lets her head sink further into his pillow. "Mike may have a panic attack if you're not there."

"Forgive me if I'm not thinking about my associate at this current time," he remarks sarcastically. Donna relents easily because she's trapped under the weight of him, immobile from the waist down.

"No later than eight-thirty," she half scolds.

His hand searches for hers, their fingers tangling together. "I can live with that."

It's the first time she has been in his bed. And if she's being honest, Harvey isn't alone in wanting to spend all morning in it. Donna finds it almost alarming how easy it is to forget about the world outside of his bedroom.

Her thoughts don't stray to Pearson Darby or the meeting with Jessica she knows Harvey will likely be late for. She doesn't even muse over the other women who have been in this bed before her because Harvey has the unique ability to make her forget that there was ever anyone else.

They have been doing this for almost three weeks now and somehow each night still feels like the first. She revels in the attention he gives her body, using his hands to commit every curve to memory, cataloguing each sound she makes when his lips and tongue wander across her skin.

It's Harvey and he doesn't do anything half-heartedly, so she should have expected no less. But he has never let her know this side of him and she finds herself often stunned by a man she has known for the better part of thirteen years.

"I'm glad you came over," he says offhandedly, staring at the ceiling. The words are admitted simply, but cause her to turn her head to bury a smile in his pillow.

"You wouldn't stop haranguing me about it," she says, her voice muffled.

He laughs at her. "Well I haven't slept in my own bed since Sunday."

For some reason it only now occurs to her that they haven't been apart for the past five nights. Donna eases herself out from underneath Harvey and his head collapses on the mattress.

"Do you mind? I was comfortable," he grumbles, making an attempt to tug on the sweatshirt she wears. She ignores his objections and pads into the adjoining bathroom. Donna strips off Harvey's shirt, making a mental note to sneak it into her handbag before she leaves. He has at least three, but this is the only one that fits her and she plans to claim it.

She steps under the hot spray of the shower, leaving the door open. No more than a moment passes before Harvey steps in behind her and wraps his arms around her waist.

* * *

He has never truly been a morning person, despite being in a profession that tends to require such a thing.

But she is, and most mornings she rises before he does. She is usually on her second cup of coffee before he tumbles out of bed. Some days he finds it hard to string a sentence together before the sun rises, but her face is alert, her smile sharp and bright without fail. On the mornings where he's lucky (like today) and she allows herself an extra twenty minutes of sleep, he can catch her before she quietly slips out of bed.

She has a routine, he's noticed. Coffee first, shower second. She likes to get dressed last, after she has curled her hair and applied her makeup. She also likes to crawl over him – fully dressed, and kiss him until he wakes up, though he is never actually sleeping. He figures she probably realises this.

It's taken him years but he has learned to endure the incessant chirp of his alarm, the cold air of his apartment and tying his tie with sleep addled eyes. He used to hate mornings but Donna suddenly makes them bearable.

They prefer to arrive at Pearson Darby separately, or she does anyway. He usually gives her a head start, allowing himself to be late just to save face in front of the other partners and associates – particularly Mike. That kid is too damned intuitive for his own good.

When they arrive at the office, she is twenty minutes late and he is five minutes behind her. But there's not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in her dress. She looks as she always does, and Mike doesn't even bat an eye when he breezes past her desk and into Harvey's office.

It quietly thrills him to possess the knowledge that her body was slick and wet against his no more than an hour ago, that she'll go through her day as normal, smelling like the soap he uses. There's a faint hickey on her left breast, barely hidden by the fabric of her dress but he knows it's there and so does she.

His eyes meet hers through the glass walls of his office. She tosses her fiery hair over her shoulder and flashes him a mischievous grin that goes unnoticed by his associate.

Mike briefs him on the latest developments in their case. His knee is jiggling distractedly and he spits his words out in rapid fire. Harvey estimates that Mike has probably chugged down an entire pot of coffee and judging by his rumpled suit, has likely slept overnight at his desk. Harvey on the other hand, has never felt this well rested in his life.

"You look like shit by the way."

Mike's eyes blink uncontrollably, doesn't even bother to look offended. "I feel fantastic."

"You seem it," he mutters sardonically.

Donna's voice interrupts them, buzzing over the intercom. _"Jessica is here to see you."_

Jessica saunters in seconds later, her shoulders stiff and her eyes hard. Their interactions since the firm's merger have been deliberately limited and each time they meet, she dons a shield of armour, not unlike his.

"Ross, out."

Mike panics, his eyes widening. Harvey tilts his head toward the door – Mike apparently not taking the hint. Jessica clears her throat once and he obediently scrambles to his feet, exiting the office without another word. Harvey is almost embarrassed by the display.

"I think you scared him away," he snorts.

Jessica folds her arms, towering over his desk and refrains from taking a seat. If he were Mike, Harvey may have found the exhibition intimidating.

"I've got another case for you. The client is a close, personal friend of Darby's."

"Great. Book a meeting with Donna," he says dismissively.

"He requested you _personally_," she says, as if it should mean something to him.

"I said I'd do it," he snaps. She gives him a hard glare and braces her hands on the edge of his desk.

"I wasn't asking." Harvey abstains from rolling his eyes, but clenches his hand into a fist.

"And I don't need Ross on this either," she instructs. "The last thing I need is for that kid to raise any red flags around Darby."

"Fine, understood."

She nods tersely. "Dana Scott will be by this afternoon to brief you," she says as she departs his office.

_Shit, _Harvey thinks, though he isn't at all surprised.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **This chapter takes place outside of the office, but I'm planning on the next chapter being a longer one with some more Mike/Rachel stuff and possibly an appearance from Louis because he has been sadly absent so far :(

* * *

**Chapter 8**

He doesn't know what he's doing here – in a dimly lit bar, already on his third scotch when it's barely seven. Scottie sits in the chair opposite his, one leg crossed demurely over the other, matching him drink for drink. She doesn't even like scotch.

There's a tension between them; one that has nothing to do with lust or the warped power plays that have become commonplace for them. Scottie briefs him on the case in clipped, short sentences.

Moments of silence stretch out between them, diffused only by the alcohol that burns slowly down his throat and hers. Harvey drains the rest of his glass and motions to the waitress to bring them both another. Scottie's glass is still half full when the waitress sets their drinks on the table.

Admittedly, he's been a coward. Her office is situated at the opposite end of the floor and he has made it a habit never to venture that far down the hall. And he's been distracted, but selfish more than anything. He's found through experience that a pissed off Scottie is much easier to approach. He doesn't have the faintest idea how to deal with the fallout of actually _hurting_ her. He's never given her feelings the consideration they warrant.

He does that.

She has finished off her drink and now cradles the other in her hand, swirling the amber liquid inside the glass. She hasn't said anything for a good five minutes, about the case or anything else for that matter. Not that he minds, he deserves her silence. But he also can't stand it any longer.

"I can tell Darby no, if that's what you want."

The way her head snaps up and her eyes meet his in a hard glare indicate that it is exactly _not _what she wants.

"Sorry," he amends, "I didn't mean to imply…"

Scottie places her drink back on the table. "Edward asked for the best, and I begrudgingly suggested you."

Harvey accepts the compliment with unusual grace, refraining from commenting.

"Then why both of us?" he asks. Scottie quirks an eyebrow at him. It's almost nice to finally see her wear a less icy expression.

"Right, he doesn't trust me."

Scottie scoffs, "That's the understatement of the year."

The two share a small smirk, a fraction of the tension ebbing away. She uncrosses her legs and lets them cross naturally at the ankles. Her movements are slow and he wonders if the manoeuvre is deliberate. Harvey yanks at his tie, loosening the knot.

"Tell me Harvey, is there a reason you refused to have this meeting inside your office?" she says.

"Neutral ground?" he suggests.

She nods simply, her face impassive again. He never remembers her being this difficult to read. "You're paying for these drinks," she says.

"It's the least I can do." It's the closest he has come to referencing what happened – or didn't – between them and it comes out sounding jilted and wrong. Scottie looks as if she's about to respond but instead takes a gulp of her drink, as if to quiet herself.

He switches tactic, "Exactly how much of this case will require me to spend time with Darby?"

"Still bitter that his name is occupying the space where yours should be?" she retorts. There's an obvious malice behind her words but he takes it in stride.

"I refuse to kiss your boss' ass," he says indignantly.

"Your boss too," she notes. "Why are you bothering? I've never known you to be this pliant."

"Jessica insisted."

"And you started following orders when?"

"What choice do I have now?" he says defensively.

Silence engulfs them again and Harvey's drink becomes even more interesting than before. So yes, he's still bitter, and Scottie of all people knows how add salt to a wound he thought was already healed. His head is starting to swim by the time he's polished off the last of his scotch.

This time Scottie orders another for him. He doesn't protest.

The lights seem brighter now, the yellow glow illuminating her flushed skin. She's more relaxed now, alcohol buzzing in her system. He once loved drinking with her, back when she would visit and things were easier between them. He grew comfortable with their games. They were predictably unpredictable and she screwed him over again and again and he always gave as good as he got.

But tonight he's charting dangerous territory because he was sure he was done with her. Except she isn't regarding him with anger anymore, but giving him a look he's seen countless times since they've known one another, and stirring something inside of him that he's even more familiar with.

He stupidly combats this with more drinking, then pretends not to notice when her chair slides closer to his. Pretty soon they've abandoned all pretence of Darby's case and work isn't even a subject anymore. For a while it seems easy; to return back to the status quo and the push and pull that has always existed between them. She sways in her chair and he shoulder brushes his.

It's encroaching on ten o'clock when they walk out the bar, an unmistakable sway in their step. The cold air nips at Harvey's face, cooling his warm skin. Scottie stumbles slightly on the sidewalk and clutches at Harvey's elbow before she can break a heel.

"You have always been a weak drinker," he tells her, making sure to emphasise the word 'weak', knowing it will rile her up.

"I kept up with you."

"That was your first mistake."

She stills, her eyes trained on his lips. "And what's my second?"

The intent behind her question is clear and Harvey isn't quite sure why he steps closer to her, rather than putting her in a cab and sending her home. Her lips clash against his and when he shuts his eyes it causes a dizzying effect on his alcohol-addled brain.

It takes longer than it should before he tears his mouth from hers and when he pulls back Scottie is staring at him curiously. But he doesn't notice because he feels nothing but sick inside and when his eyes squeeze shut all he can see is flashes of red.

* * *

She drags herself from the warmth of her bed and trudges over to the door, groaning at the insistent knock. Donna yanks at the door, prepared to hurl abuse at whoever stands on the other side. Instead she sees Harvey slumped against her doorframe, his tie askew, his suit horribly wrinkled and the heady stench of scotch on his breath.

"This is a good look for you," she mutters sardonically.

But he doesn't smirk or crack a smile. He crumples against her and wraps his arms around her waist. Donna staggers under the weight of him but lets her own arms slip around his neck. Harvey buries his face against her shoulder and inhales deeply. His fingers tug against her sweatshirt, or more accurately, his.

"You're sleeping in my shirt," he mumbles matter-of-factly, lifting his head to look down at her. Donna smiles bashfully, her fingers floating over the fabric of the shirt sub-consciously.

"I told you I was keeping it."

"You look good in it."

"I know."

Harvey smiles lazily before his eyes widen. "Shit, you were sleeping."

"I get up every morning before six, of course I am sleeping."

"Sorry I didn't call," he says guiltily. She doesn't say anything, just tugs at his wrist and ushers him toward her bedroom.

When they are standing at the foot of her bed she faces him and closes the small space between them. Donna undoes his tie, lets it falls to the floor. She removes his jacket and hangs it neatly over the chair by her bed. She unbuttons his once crisp, white shirt and allows it to land in a heap beside his tie. His belt and pants are next, and Donna gives a pleased smirk when he releases a monosyllabic sound at the feel of her dextrous fingers.

When Harvey is dressed only in his underwear, Donna directs him to the bed, her hands firm on his shoulders to keep him from fumbling in the dark. They slip under the covers and she spoons up against him. But then he turns her body around so her face is opposite his.

Harvey anchors one hand to her hipbone and glides the other through her ponytail, twirling it around his finger. He drops a lingering kiss to her lips that tastes of expensive scotch.

"How did the meeting with the client go?"

Harvey stiffens. "That bad huh?"

"Alcohol proved very necessary."

She chuckles at the slur of his sentence. "I see that."

"You should have come with me, you're a lot more charming than I am," he says fondly.

"This is true."

"You keep me in line," he agrees.

"I keep you from acting like yourself," she teases.

Harvey pauses. "You make me better."

Donna is momentarily thrown by how much his words touch her. She's sure he can see her stupid smile, even in the dark. His kisses her again, this time with more urgency.

"I'm sorry I came home like this," he mumbles against her lips.

Donna decides to the let the 'home' remark slide. "You'll pay for it with a hangover in the morning."

Harvey nestles further against her. "Then I guess we will have to take the morning off."

"The law doesn't wait for your sobriety, Harvey."

His hands continue to toy with the hem of the Harvard sweatshirt. "Did I mention how good you look in this?"

"Several times."

"Take it off," he practically whines.

But Donna eyelids have already fallen closed again. "No, we're sleeping."

"If I go to sleep with the room still spinning I will definitely wake up with a hangover."

Donna slaps him half-heartedly. "You cannot use the threat of your potential hangover to coax me into having sex with you."

"But I've missed you," he says nearly inaudibly that Donna is sure she imagines it.

"We had sex this morning in your shower, Harvey," she deadpans, "And if you weren't totally hammered right now, you would never even say such a thing."

He doesn't respond and she thinks he may have fallen asleep.

"You know I mean it though, right?" he tentatively asks, and he's never sounded so vulnerable that it makes her heart ache.

She knows she should say something in response, but he's rendered her silent that she can only nod against his cheek. Harvey is too out of it to even realise the effect he's having on her and she has to reel herself in to keep from saying something stupid that he'll forget by the time he's awake and sober again.

"Goodnight, Harvey."

Apparently he decides to say something stupid instead, "Love you."

His body is slack and unconscious before she even has the chance to react.

* * *

**I'm not trying to hate on Harvey because I love him no matter how poor his actions and decisions can be, but things can't always be smooth sailing! Also, the next update shouldn't take as long as the last.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **Okay, so assignments have been kicking my ass and I've been really slack with this update. Apologies!

**Warning - A brief part of this chapter is M**, if you aren't into that sort of thing, just skip ahead.

* * *

**Chapter 9  
_**

It isn't that she panics, but Donna wakes before the sun rises with a sudden compulsion to get to work early and do some serious shredding. Harvey's body is like a dead weight though, and he's thrown half of it over hers in his sleep.

She finds it odd that he's a closet 'cuddler'. That he will mould himself to her so casually and unconsciously – as if the 'friends' part of their relationship has never existed.

With the morning light only just peering into her bedroom, Donna inspects his face. His mouth hangs open slightly, his lips in an adorable 'O' shape. There's a light crease between his eyebrows that seems to never quite go away. She can't control the thumb that traces the mole above his brow. Harvey stirs but doesn't wake, only sinks further into her.

Donna tells herself that it doesn't mean anything, that hearing him say the words doesn't leave her completely breathless and cause her brain to short-circuit. But she isn't _that_ girl – the type who swoons, the type who lets her happiness be defined by the man in her life. The thought nearly sickens her.

But it means something all the same. Because her and Harvey don't talk in terms of love. And she only ever uses that word when she's kidding herself.

_I am not in love with you._

She feels his foot nudge hers before it runs up against her calf. Harvey's hold on her tightens. He lets out a moan, his voice hoarse with sleep.

"Oh god my head."

"Good morning," she says a little too loudly. Harvey winces, cracking one eye open. His face softens when he sees her. He moves to kiss her.

Donna pushes her fingers against his lips. "Whoa, keep that mouth away from mine until you've brushed your teeth."

He looks almost offended, until a slow smirk spreads across his face. He's looking entirely too pleased for someone with a pounding headache. Then he's pinning her to the bed, trailing a line of warm, wet kisses across her jaw.

Harvey mock-sighs, "I guess I'll just have to find some other place for it."

His lips travel lower, reaching the collar of his Harvard sweatshirt. He breathes her in.

"It smells like you now," he comments.

"Guess I'd better wash it then."

Harvey pushes the shirt up, exposing her breasts. His mouth moves to her taut nipple, circling it with his tongue. "Don't you dare."

He sucks harder and she can't quiet the moan that falls from her lips. She arches into his hand as his thumb traces lazy circles on her other nipple.

Harvey lowers himself further, his lips ghosting over her belly button. His fingers caress the waistband of her underwear, slipping them past her hips and down her legs, tossing them carelessly on the floor.

"Thought you had a headache," Donna breathes, her steady voice deserting her.

Harvey is leering up at her from between her legs and it's possibly the hottest expression she's ever seen on him.

"Really not an issue at the moment."

Harvey's hands slip underneath her and cup her ass. His shoulders push at her thighs until she spreads her legs wide. A low moan gets caught in her throat when Harvey starts tonguing her clit. Then he runs his tongue along her slit, lapping at her once, twice, before plunging inside of her. She writhes against him, fisting both hands in his hair. She feels him grin against her.

_Arrogant bastard. _

For a while she forgets about everything, can hardly form a coherent thought – or any – when his mouth is working her steadily to climax. She feels herself coming undone and grips his head, reluctantly pushing his mouth away from her. Donna tries to pull him up but he stills her.

"No," he says against her skin. "This is about you."

Then his tongue is on her again and she feels like she's going to implode, combust from the inside out. She literally screams his name so loud that she ought to be embarrassed and he's so damn self-satisfied that Donna wants to clamp her legs around his head and make him stay there. Though she thinks he might not be abhorred by the idea.

"Fuck," she says, still in a haze.

"God, you're hot. You should definitely swear more."

"You're an ass."

"Yeah, like that," he laughs.

So she decides to write it off, because a drunken slur isn't a declaration of love. Regardless of how it makes her feel. She does let him kiss her then, tasting herself on his lips and tongue. For a few moments she's completely satiated, the urge to flee from her bed and hide behind a desk gone.

* * *

It takes a long, cold shower, two aspirins and several shots of espresso before Harvey feels like himself again.

Ray picks them up from Donna's and Harvey makes the man practically park on the sidewalk so he doesn't have to spend more than a minute in direct sunlight.

"Rough night Mr Specter?" he asks with a chuckle. Harvey tries to glare at him but the action causes pain to shoot behind his eyes.

"Miss Paulsen, lovely as always," Ray greets, smiling brightly at Donna from the  
rear-view mirror. Donna flutters her eyelashes dramatically and laughs at Harvey when he seeks out her hand possessively. She slaps his hand and places it back on his lap.

"Donna, Ray has been picking me up from your apartment for weeks now," he mutters almost patronisingly. "He's no idiot."

Donna rolls her eyes at him. "Keep your hands to yourself in front of Ray," she scolds.

Harvey spares a quick glance at Ray, who is pointedly _not _staring at them. Ray – ever the professional, hasn't outright said anything of course, but Harvey swears he once heard the man mumble _finally. _Harvey couldn't help but echo the sentiment.

Harvey leans back against the leather seat, willing the pain behind his eyes to subside. He really shouldn't be having hangovers at his age.

When they are just a block away from Pearson Darby, Donna starts fussing over his appearance. She brushes lint from his suit – thank god she had a spare stashed away at her place – and flattens the sides of his hair that he couldn't be bothered dealing with earlier. She lingers a while, her sharp nails tickling his scalp.

"Donna, keep your hands to yourself in front of Ray," he mimics in a high-pitched tone.

Donna chews her lip, holding back a smirk. She doesn't shy away when Harvey tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He gets bolder, pressing his lips against her pulse point.

She smells like vanilla and it's damn intoxicating. Donna giggles at the touch of his mouth and he can't believe what a drunken idiot he'd been last night, that he had almost ruined this.

The car comes to a stop out the front of the building and Harvey regrets that they can't go on behaving like this for the rest of the day. He crushes his lips soundly against hers, ignoring the fact that he's probably making his driver incredibly uncomfortable.

He doesn't care, just wants to feel her smile against his lips. Then she's gone and sliding out the other door and he's left staring at an empty space.

The office is already bustling when they arrive and they're both surprised to find Mike occupying the sacred space of Donna's cubicle. Harvey ushers her towards the desk, his palm warm against the small of her back. The touch is innocent enough that it won't raise any eyebrows – specifically his associate's.

"Tell me, Michael…" she says smoothly, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"You couldn't have waited in my office?" Harvey adds.

Mike motions with his head to Harvey's office. "Ahem. Yours is already occupied."

Harvey spots Scottie sitting on his couch, trying and failing to mask a glare when her eyes find his.

"Mike, out," Donna instructs.

He stands while Donna takes a seat behind her desk. Mike leans casually against it.

"Shouldn't you be at your own desk?" Harvey asks.

"I came here to give you those research notes you asked for."

_Right. _He'd forgotten, sometime between his fourth drink with Scottie and tumbling into bed with Donna. Harvey waves a dismissive hand, "Leave them with Donna."

"I even went by your apartment last night to drop them off, but you weren't home."

Harvey discreetly clears his throat. "I told you I was having drinks with a client."

"I came by _late _for that very reason."

"Gee Mike, I'm sorry I missed our play date, try not to let the feelings of disappointment overwhelm you," he says, sauntering past Donna's cubicle and into his office.

Scottie is staring blankly out of the window, her gaze lost in the city. When Harvey shuts the door, her head immediately whips around to face him.

"Look, I should apologise…" he starts.

"I don't know what the hell you're playing at Harvey," she interrupts, stalking closer to him.

"I know, I haven't been fair –"

"Fair?!" she says incredulously. "You've been toying with me, Harvey!"

He has. And now she's standing here with a shaky voice and crumpling face, and he really has no explanation for it.

Scottie breaks their eye contact. "And I've been trying to figure it out, you know? Because _you _asked Darby to let me stay here and keep my job. What the hell is it for if you don't love me?"

Harvey can't prevent himself from sparing a glance outside his office. Mike is staring directly at him, doing a terrible job of pretending not to listen through the thin, glass walls. Donna won't look at him and she's typing madly on her keyboard.

"I still _care _about you Scottie, I wasn't gonna let him fire you."

Scottie sighs. "God, that is such bullshit. You can't even look me in the eye and tell me you're in love with somebody else."

That trips him. His eyes widen, unconsciously falling on Donna. Scottie notices too, shaking her head almost sadly. She doesn't say anything more, but pushes past him and storms out of his office. She stops just at Donna's desk and the two share a look that Harvey can't decipher before Scottie disappears down the hall.

He shuts himself in his office and watches Mike walk away hopelessly. Donna still won't look at him but she gets up from her desk and Harvey is left watching her retreating form.

He finds her in the bathroom not a moment later and all he can think is how damn _fitting. _He can hardly remember what it feels like to have an argument that doesn't lead in here. Donna's hands are braced against the sink, her breath coming out in long pants.

She catches his reflection in the mirror. Without looking at him she says, "You want to tell me what that was about?"

Harvey crouches down, checking under the stalls. "Do you really want to do this here?"

"And what would _this _be exactly?"

Harvey releases a heavy sigh. "Donna, what do you want me to say?"

"Have you been sleeping with her?"

"No."

"Since the merger?" she clarifies.

"The day we fought, I…tried to" he admits.

She turns to face him, hand gripping her hip. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? That your reaction to having an argument with me is to have sex with Scottie? _Yeah, _that makes total sense."

"The point is that I couldn't go through with it," he stresses.

"And what about yesterday?"

"What about it?"

"Come on, Harvey. The woman has barely been by your office since the merger and now suddenly she's in there before eight thirty, waiting for the opportunity to tear into you."

A beat passes between them. "I hurt her."

"You weren't having drinks with a client," she deduces.

"I met with her to discuss our joined case."

Her words dripping with sarcasm, Donna says, "It's funny, but you'd think I would know that, what with being your secretary and all."

"But I –"

"Kept it from me," she finishes.

"I didn't tell Mike either," he defends weakly.

"And are you sleeping with Mike?"

"For the love of God, don't even joke about that."

Donna doesn't even crack a smile, one hand still gripping the sink counter and the other tethered to her hip. "Is that what this morning was about?" she asks tentatively, "You were feeling guilty?"

Harvey chokes, because she's not entirely wrong. He did feel guilty, still does. Then maybe he shouldn't, because they aren't together, by any definitive means. Not once have they addressed this limbo that they are in, and as far as anyone else knows, she's merely his secretary.

Except even as the thought invades his brain, he recognises what a complete load of bullshit it is.

"I didn't sleep with her. But I did kiss her."

Donna's face falls, if only for a second. She nods, releasing her grip on the counter. She smooths the wrinkles in her dress and pushes her hair off her neck. Her eyes are tinged red and her cheeks are pink, but she schools her expression into an impenetrable mask of aloofness.

"I have work to do," is all she says before exiting the bathroom.

Harvey does the same and can't help but wish she screamed at him instead.


	10. Chapter 10

I know this has been the longest wait between updates but I wrestled with this chapter for so long before I felt it was finally ready to be posted. Plus as of three hours ago Uni is officially over for the semester so my time will be mine again! Thanks to all those who review, follow and favourite, it's legitimately the highlight of my day.

* * *

**Chapter 10**

It takes every ounce of restrain she's capable of, but Donna marches back to her desk and manages to keep from bursting at the seams. Harvey is a mere few steps behind her. He stops at her cubicle, his lips parted, the words _I'm sorry _on his tongue.

But if she hears them now she might just explode. She refuses to meet his eyes and he stands there awkwardly, unmoving in front of her. He walks away and for once she's grateful for his silence. When she hears the door to his office close, she reaches underneath her desk, unplugging the intercom.

Donna spends the next few hours clearing out Harvey's inbox and making calls to clients. She's far too chipper on the phone, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears. Still, she gets lost in the familiarity of work and with each passing minute it becomes easier to ignore the feel of Harvey's steady, unwavering gaze.

Mike swings by later and god bless the kid he has a triple, non-fat, sugar-free mocha latte in his hand. She's so relieved to see him she could cry. Donna retrieves the large cup from his outstretched hands.

The milk is scalding and it leaves a pleasant, burning sensation on her tongue. "You are my hero," she says between sips.

Mike swells with pride at the compliment. He signals toward Harvey's office, "Is it safe to go in there?"

She grins so widely that her teeth ache. "Go ahead."

Mike cocks his head to the side, giving Donna an odd stare. "Are you okay?"

"Give me a few more sips of this coffee and I'll stop feeling like such a zombie."

Her answer seems to suffice and Mike disappears into Harvey's office.

Since there is nothing particularly pressing, Donna takes the opportunity to stash herself away in the file room. It's midday and most people are taking their lunch breaks so the area is blissfully deserted. She finds herself easily comforted by the repetitive dullness that sorting through case files offers.

Except without the constant chatter of assistants and associates, or the shrill ring of telephones, her own thoughts become a little too loud. And the goddamn _'love you' _is playing on a loop in her head, interrupted only by the _'I kissed her.' _

It's Scottie's voice that disturbs her musings.

"If I ask you the same question again, here, will you promise to answer it honestly this time?"

The tone she adopts is without malice, and far softer than the one she used with Harvey hours earlier. Donna wants to hate her, thinks she might already. But this isn't her fault. In this scenario it's Scottie who's been burned, and the betrayal Donna feels has nothing to do with what _she's _done.

"Scottie…" she trails off.

"Are you in love with him?" she says slowly, pronouncing each word meticulously.

"Does it matter?"

Scottie exhales exasperatedly. "God, can't somebody around here give me a straight answer?"

"Yes," Donna responds, so quickly that it surprises her. But the relief that comes with finally acknowledging it aloud isn't as satisfying as she'd imagined.

Scottie shakes her head. "I don't know why I came back here," she says, more to herself than anybody else.

"You had to try," Donna offers.

Scottie sighs despondently. "I can't compete with…what you two have."

"There was never a competition, Dana."

The woman gives a humourless laugh. "No, there wasn't."

* * *

After finally emerging from the file room, Donna returns to find Harvey's office empty. She resumes her position at her desk where a lukewarm cup of coffee rests beside her computer. A small note is taped to the lid.

**_Gone for the day. – H._**

Blunt, direct. He writes like he speaks. Donna balls the note up in her fist and disposes of it in the trash. She does the same with the coffee.

Donna packs her things, shuts down her computer and is out of the office by five, struggling to remember the last time she left so early.

* * *

He realises what a mistake this is, even as he's making it. The city is cloaked in darkness by the time Donna pulls up in a cab in front of her building. She notices the flowers first, before her eyes reluctantly slide up to his face. By the scowl that sets in her brow, Harvey wonders if maybe he should have just bought her a Marni bag instead.

"What is this?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Her frown deepens. _Okay, not the time to play coy. _

"I wanted to beat you here before you could slam a door in my face."

Donna says nothing.

"Not that I don't deserve it," he hastily adds.

Donna pushes past to the entrance of her building. Harvey dares to drop a hand to her waist but when her head snaps around he quickly withdraws it.

"Harvey, go home."

He holds out the bouquet of lilies to her like some hopeless sap. She regards them with disdain, though he happens to know they're her favourite flower.

"Flowers are not an apology," she informs him.

He drops his hand, letting the bouquet hang loose by his side. It's the second time he's ever given flowers to a woman and it's going about as well as last time.

"How about new shoes? The day off? The week off?"

Harvey is acutely aware of the fact that he is now pleading. Donna breathes an exasperated sigh and her eyes do that thing where they roll right up under her eye lids.

"My god, you are unbelievable."

For a second he thinks she may laugh, but then she shoves him with such force that he almost loses his footing.

"You can't just buy my forgiveness this time, Harvey."

"Isn't it what we've always done? I behave like a colossal ass and then I buy you something pretty."

This time Donna practically growls in annoyance. "I'm not just your damn secretary anymore!"

When the words register he understands that he's treating her as if she is just that; throwing half-hearted apologies at her like he doesn't give a fuck. He reaches for her hand and glides his fingers through hers.

"Donna, I don't want to screw this up."

"You know, I keep hearing all these things but you still haven't said the three words you are actually _meant _to say," she retorts.

"I love you."

The words are out of his mouth so fast that he doesn't even realise he's said them aloud until he observes the complete shock on her face.

"I. Am. Sorry," she says, counting the words on her free hand.

_Ah. Idiot._

"Don't say it just to diffuse an argument."

"Are you going to ignore it like you did last night?"

Harvey doesn't miss her quick intake of breath. "You were drunk."

"And therefore had no reason to lie," he defends.

Donna extracts her hand from Harvey's fingers, crossing her arms over her chest. It's an obvious defensive move, but Harvey just thinks it makes her look small. He resists the impulse to envelop her in his arms.

"You lied about Scottie."

To be fair, he was waiting for that. "Because I didn't want to ruin what we started."

Harvey takes a step closer but she holds a hand out in front, preventing him from coming any further.

"You know what? I've been thinking about this all day and we gave it a shot but –"

"No."

"No?" she asks incredulously.

"You don't get to decide this is over –"

"Harvey," she says tiredly, "We tried."

"Not after I just said…"

Donna's lip catches between her teeth and Harvey knows she's trying not to cry in front of him. When he steps closer again, she doesn't stop him. His hand ghosts over her cheek, only to be met with a cold air when she retreats once more. She swivels on her heel and enters the building.

Harvey tosses her flowers out in the street.

* * *

To the casual observer, things would appear as they always have. But Mike prides himself on his perceptiveness, and he knows these two stubborn individuals well enough to detect when they're faking it. Harvey may excel at concealing his emotions, but Donna has it down to a fine art.

It's nothing major; they don't ignore one another or erupt into a vicious fight of scathing words - they're not him and Rachel. They are subtle, discreet in the way they slowly unravel before his eyes.

They're good, he realises. So good in fact, that it takes a full two days before Mike notices that Donna won't enter Harvey's office unless he is in it and that the two don't ever share a conversation unless he is present.

Little things catch his attention first; the tightness of Donna's voice, the smile she works too hard to keep plastered across her face, the way Harvey's eyes drift over to Donna's desk every few minutes. Mike wonders if it's some sort of paranoia, a constant reassurance that she hasn't left yet, that she won't in the next moment or the one after.

When isolated, these observations aren't of particular importance. But when combined, Mike feels like he's piecing together a puzzle, adding up each individual fragment until a whole picture begins to take shape.

After a week of quietly observing the two of them, he's beginning to feel a lot like a voyeur and more than a little intrusive. More importantly though, he has discovered two things.

The first; it's _Donna _who's mad at _Harvey. _Not the other way around. New York City's self-proclaimed 'best closer' wears stoicism like a second skin, but when it comes to Donna, the remorse is written all over Harvey's face.

The second; this is bigger than the memo. Seeing Donna walk out of Pearson Hardman with her things in a box and tears in her eyes had been hard. And seeing Harvey's face when somebody else showed up at her desk had been equally hard. Mike thinks this might just be worse.

They don't banter. They don't tease one another or even him. They arrive at the office on time and leave early. Harvey doesn't linger at Donna's desk and she never walks into his office unannounced. Mike's beginning to feel like the middle man, a kid caught between two parents who don't remember how to communicate with one another.

He and Harvey are in the midst of discussing a case when Mike asks, without even a trace of finesse, "What's up with you and Donna?"

To the man's credit, Harvey doesn't flinch at the bluntness of Mike's question.

"There's nothing going on."

Mike had expected the instinctive denial, it is _Harvey _after all. What Mike hadn't been prepared for was the dejected tone of his voice when he answered.

"Harvey, come on," he says disbelievingly.

Harvey clears his throat and snaps his laptop shut. "It's none of your concern."

"I beg to differ."

"Then please explain, because I'm fascinated why you think mine and Donna's relationship has absolutely anything to do with you."

Mike takes the harshness of his words in stride. "I have to work with the both of you, don't I?"

"Still none of your business."

"What the hell could you have done to upset her this much?" His question is met with dead silence and an accompanying glare. He tries a different approach. "People are starting to take notice."

It's stretch, but not a complete lie because Louis did mention something about Donna's 'flawless ice queen impersonation' the other day.

"You don't know what you're talking about. As usual."

"I know that Donna can barely stand to be around you anymore."

That does it. Harvey doesn't say anything for a while, and Mike wonders if he's going to jump over the desk and throttle him for running his mouth off.

"You know, we've only ever had four big fights," he says pensively.

"Not bad for twelve years."

"Thirteen," he corrects with a small smile.

Curiosity gets the better of him. "What happened?"

Harvey shrugs dismissively. "It's ancient history."

"Fine," he concedes. "Well how did you resolve things those other three times?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Harvey, if you just keep apologising eventually she'll hear you."

"This isn't like some pissy little fight you have with your girlfriend," Harvey snaps. "A simple 'I'm sorry' isn't going to do shit. You don't know Donna and me, so stop pretending to!"

Mike's mouth slams shut at Harvey's explosion. He sneaks a casual glance at his surroundings, noting that several people have stopped dead in their tracks outside of the office at Harvey's uncharacteristic outburst. Mike feels marginally embarrassed, but no more than his boss. Harvey's eyes are wide as Donna gapes openly at him from her cubicle, because even without the intercom she can hear every word.

Mike watches as she stands shakily to her feet and storms off down the hall. Before Mike can even process the moment, Harvey throws him out of the office and lands in a heap at his desk with his head in his hands.


	11. Chapter 11

Another delayed update I know, but this one is longer than usual, so thanks for your patience :)

Should be wrapping this one up in a chapter or two.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

When the weekend arrives, it is a welcome respite. She sleeps through most of Saturday, to the point where she wakes up and the sun is already beginning to set. She's satisfied to spend her night in a similar state, curled up on her couch with a bottle of wine, flicking mindlessly through T.V channels. Rachel however, has a different plan for the two of them when she shows up on Donna's doorstep dressed to the nines.

"We're going out," she announces with an excitement that Donna resents.

Donna toys self-consciously with the draw string of her yoga pants. Rachel thankfully doesn't comment on the fact that she has quite obviously been in bed all day.

"Thanks Rach, but I really can't think of anything worse right now."

Rachel deflates a little, but doesn't let Donna's resistance deter her. She invites herself inside, her heels clacking across the floor boards. Donna follows Rachel, her bare feet padding silently behind her. Rachel goes straight for the bedroom, making a direct beeline to Donna's closet. She opens it with gusto, admiring Donna's vast collection of dresses, blouses and skirts. Donna tries not to think about the person who has essentially paid for all of it.

"It's a Saturday night, I've barely seen you outside of the office in the past month, so we _are _going out," she informs Donna as she flicks through her closet, carefully selecting a dress.

Eventually she extracts a white dress with a sweetheart neckline that flows from the waistline. It's playful and sexy and Donna knows she can do some damage in it – which makes her only more reluctant to wear it.

Rachel inspects it with wide, appreciative eyes. "Oh, I am definitely borrowing this." She grins, pushing it into Donna's hands. Rachel reaches behind Donna's head and untangles the knot at the nape of her neck. "I'll be in the kitchen starting on the bottle of wine I know you have in your fridge. You have half an hour."

Donna rolls her eyes at her friend, yet can't help but crack a smile at her. "I can be ready in twenty. This face doesn't need a lot of maintenance," she jokes, despite being acutely aware of the dark circles under eyes. Rachel looks practically gleeful, before her gaze abruptly narrows.

"What?"

Rachel's eyes zero in on the faded Harvard logo on her shirt.

"Is that –?"

Donna's hands fly to her collar. "I better get ready," she says, stashing herself away in the adjoining bathroom. She slumps against the bathroom door, breathing a sigh of relief when she hears the clipped sound of Rachel's shoes as she retreats from the bedroom. She strips off her shirt, flinging it into the sink, feeling stupid for having been caught wearing it.

* * *

He's at some swanky, pretentious rooftop bar with a name like 'The Deck' or 'The Tower' or something equally obvious. Of course it's freezing so they're inside, which kind of defeats the whole purpose. He suspects that he was dragged here by his associate as some sort of apology, though he knows his corporate card will likely be paying for their drinks all night. Mike has been walking on egg shells around him since his outburst and at some point he might actually feel bad for biting his head off.

Mike buys them both glass of Macallan neat and Harvey watches his associate with an amused smirk as he pretends to enjoy the drink.

"If you can't handle it, you shouldn't order it."

"I'm a grown up, Harvey. I can handle it," he argues, spluttering as he speaks.

Harvey surveys the crowd, noting there's an eclectic mix of patrons, where only half seem to fit in with the air of class that permeates the place. They range from middle aged men in suits, to girls younger than Mike and women his age. There's a group of guys, probably in their early twenties, doing shots at the end of the bar, behaving like they're at a frat party.

"I can't believe I let you bring me here," he says, with a modicum of distaste.

Mike checks his phone distractedly before he says, "And what would you have been doing instead?"

"Preferably anything else."

"Drinking alone in your apartment is not a valid lifestyle choice," Mike chides.

"And getting high is?"

Mike narrows his eyes. "Alright, well played." He attention flicks back down to the phone in his hand for about the fifth time since they arrived and it irks Harvey more than it should.

"Do you have somewhere to be?"

Mike looks up sharply, clearing his throat. "No, just ah, checking my balance."

Harvey snatches the phone from his grasp, ignoring Mike's yelp of protest. His reply to a text is only half formed. Harvey notes with a sly grin that the text is from Rachel. His smile quickly dissipates when he reads the message from her.

**_We're here, is Harvey still with you?"_**

Mike at least has the decency to look guilty. Harvey pushes the phone into his hands, and he fumbles, nearly dropping it.

"You are not smooth enough to pull off a set up."

"I'm sorry, it wasn't my idea. Well, not completely."

Out the corner of his periphery, Harvey spots Rachel at the opposite end of the bar with a reluctant Donna in toe. She looks stunning in white, her hair practically flaming against her creamy skin. Harvey has to deliberately peel his eyes away from her.

He attempts to, and subsequently fails to curb his anger at Mike for the second time this week. "What do you think you're playing at?!"

Mike braves another swallow of his drink, not even bothering to hide his wince this time. "This is for your own good. The both of you."

"Did nothing I said the other day sink in?"

"All I took from that conversation is how miserable your life is without Donna. And it's not the first time I've noticed either," he adds.

Mike walks over and warmly greets Rachel and Donna. Rachel is almost as bad as this covert thing as Mike, because Donna seems to have already caught onto their half-assed hair-brained scheme. She's aware of his presence, he knows that much. But like at work, she makes it a point to keep her eyes from straying anywhere in his direction. He's about ready to bear the chill outside because it can't be anywhere as cold as it is in here.

* * *

Mike slinks away after the glare she shoots him and she turns to Rachel, prepared to strangle her well-intentioned, if not thoughtless friend. She says through gritted teeth, "Rach, if I didn't love you, I might kill you."

The mischievous smirk she wore only a moment ago slips from her features and gives way to a sad, pensive expression. "Donna, I don't know why you're not talking to me, but I can see that you're hurting from…_whatever _this is."

Donna's frustration dissipates as her shoulders slump. "I can't even process it in my own head enough to talk about it with anyone."

Rachel nods in understanding. "You're sleeping together," she says, phrasing it as a statement, a fact. Donna gives Rachel a watery smile, grateful when her friend doesn't press any further. Rachel leans closer, her words quiet and tentative, "He's still staring at you from across the bar."

Donna knows this already, can feel his eyes penetrating against her skin. She ignores it. "I need a drink."

Rachel sighs, throwing a glance behind Donna at Harvey. "What are you having? I'm buying."

"Anything but scotch."

Rachel hums knowingly. "Two gin and tonics," she politely tells the bartender. He makes their drinks promptly, keeping one eye on the task at hand and the other on Rachel. He's glaringly obvious but Rachel seems oblivious. Donna thinks it might have something to do with a certain almost-lawyer.

"So tell me, whose brilliant plan was this?" Donna asks, taking a long gulp of her gin and tonic. "Mike's?"

"I believe his exact words were _'I'm tired of watching mom and dad fighting'."_

They share a quiet laugh, because it's just such a typical Mike Ross reaction. Donna wants to be angry with him for his interference, Rachel's too, but decides it might be liberating to not have to carry this all by herself anymore.

"You two are back on speaking terms then?"

Rachel bites her lip and looks down purposefully at her drink, an action intended to hide her growing blush.

"We're friends, I guess. Or something resembling that."

_That dance will never get any easier. _

"You should go find him," Donna says, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to be alone with a group of strangers, or at least somebody who doesn't know her so well.

Rachel looks torn. "I don't want to leave you alone."

"I'm a big girl, Rach. Go."

"I won't be far if you need me."

Donna swallows what's left of her gin and tonic immediately orders a second.

* * *

His opportunity to finally get her alone is thwarted the second Rachel leaves and some twenty five year old kid saddles up next to Donna with the sad intent to try and flirt with her. Harvey's gaze is steely, though he's relieved when Donna appears to be humouring the guy. She's smiling tightly at him, and her amusement is half hearted when he attempts to make her laugh.

Harvey almost feels sorry for the kid until he leans in close and tries to grope Donna's ass. Donna extracts his fingers so quickly that it looks like she might even break them, but Harvey's rage is already simmering that he doesn't see this, can only see the face of some punk that he would really like to punch in the jaw.

He's standing at her side before he even realises his feet are moving and he's pushing the guy hard enough that he staggers backwards, knocking several glasses along the bar.

"Harvey, what the hell?!"

He's got the kid by the collar and his fist is already raised. "Dude, I didn't know she had a boyfriend," he protests, clearly terrified.

"_She doesn't," _Donna says bitingly, spinning on her heel and weaving through the crowd.

Harvey releases the guy, embarrassed. "Sorry, kid," Harvey apologises, though he's clearly too stunned to respond.

He catches a glimpse of her pale dress through the mass of people, heading towards the bathrooms. He snags her elbow and has her pressed against the wall in the narrow corridor of the bar.

"You're kidding me with this, right?" she says, jerking her arm away. Donna tries to sidestep him but his hands are braced against the wall on either side of her face. He's boxed her in and she looks appropriately pissed off by it.

He hasn't been this close to her since he humiliated himself on the steps of her apartment building. And she hasn't allowed him anywhere near her all week. He takes a moment to let his eyes glide over her, taking in her tousled hair, her pursed pink lips, the way her dress seems to tug at her and hang off her all at once. He watches her flush all the way down to her toes.

Out the corner of his mouth he says, "You look nice."

She snorts in typical Donna fashion. "I look fantastic."

He smirks, knowing it will rile her. "I wasn't sure if I was allowed to say that."

"Say anything you want, Harvey," she says scathingly.

He leans in further to her, aligning their hips, invading what little personal space she has left.

"How about, I'm fucking tired of this."

She sinks further into the wall, bracing her hands up against it. "You think I'm not tired? It's exhausting trying to hate you," she tells him, crumpling a little when she says it.

Harvey's hands move from the wall and to her bare shoulders, tracing her collar bone, ghosting over her freckles. He replaces them with his lips, surprised when she lets him. Her skin tastes sweet, and just as familiar. It hasn't even reached two weeks since the last time kissed her, but it feels longer since he'd gotten used being able to do it freely.

"I've missed you," he states.

Remarkably, she kisses him first, her mouth hot and aggressive. There's a clash of tongues and teeth as her hands seek out the skin beneath his shirt and he lowers his hand to the underside of her thigh, raising it high enough that he can push further against her, closer still.

He's only semi-conscious of the fact that they are in public, but that knowledge seems to flee from his mind when her hand slips into his pants and cups him over his briefs. Harvey gives as good as he gets, his hand teasing circles on her inner thigh, just shy of where she needs him to be.

"God, I've wanted to do that all week," he mutters against her mouth.

Apparently it's the wrong thing to say because she's tearing her lips away and shoving him until there's enough space between him that she can walk away.

"Donna?"

"I'm not – I don't, forgive you."

"For Christ's sake Donna! I fucked up. I made a mistake, why does something that meant nothing to me matter so much to you?"

"You really don't get it do you?" she says, basically screaming in his face.

"Will you stop?!" he fires back.

"Do you remember what you said to me? When I told you that Scottie loved you?"

"Donna, this isn't even about her anymore."

"Do you remember what you said?" He doesn't respond, just waits for her to carry on. "You said you couldn't be with her because she made you make a fool out of her fiancé."

"What does that have to do with –?"

"You made a fool out of me!"

Her words silence anything he is about to say, all he can do is stare at her limply. His hands rise of their own accord, cradling her face in his palms.

"I know you well enough to know your ethics on cheating. And I know that we weren't _together_, but you did it to me," she says shakily. Her mouth twitches when her eyes flick upwards, locking with his. "I always thought I'd mean more."

He swallows thickly. He hates when he does this to her, when she has to wage a war to keep from crying in front of him. "In that same conversation, you told me I never fight for anything. Well, guess what, this time it _is about you_, okay? We _were together. _And I'm fighting – finally."

The moment is rudely interrupted by Mike and Rachel, both wearing anxious looks on their faces. It belatedly occurs to him just how bad this looks – he's smothered against Donna, who's on the verge of tears, while he himself is barely holding it together.

"Donna, I think it's time to go," Rachel says, the protective streak in her voice unmistakable.

Donna breaks away from the wall at the moment that Mike tugs on Harvey's arm. "Come on man."

Harvey casts an incredulous glance at Mike and Rachel – the two people who orchestrated this entire disaster of a night. And it's all over their faces; guilt, remorse and _pity._

"Congratulations, you two," he says, not even bothering to contain the spite that seeps into his voice. Later he'll feel bad for this too, but for now he'll return home, content to feel numb again.


End file.
